Page 4 of My Masked Stalker
“Do you want to stay with me for a while?” Barbara asks quietly. “We’d have to share a bed, but if you don’t feel safe there…”
My friend’s concern for me makes me smile, but I think the only thing I’m in danger of is embarrassment.
“Thanks, babe, I’ll be alright,” I assure her. “This was obviously some sort of revenge killing. Or maybe even a hit.”
Barbara clicks her tongue. “Well, the offer stands if you change your mind.”
“Thanks again. I’ll see you at work tomorrow?”
She groans with feeling. “If someone doesn’t do me the favor of takingmeout before then.”
I can’t help but laugh. Barbara’s in a feud with our boss, who’s a grade A biatch and won’t be winning any popularity contests.
Once I say goodbye to my friend, I check to see if Chris bothered to reply. He sent me a few disgruntled messages after our call dropped, but he hasn’t expressed any worry when I said someone was killed next door right after. Typical.
Chris and I have been in a situationship for a couple of years now, though I try to date around in hopes of finding something healthier. I kind of hate him and his mood swings, but he keeps reeling me back into his bed with his skills in that department. It’s everywhere else that he’s disappointing.
Feeling annoyed with myself for answering his call last night, I open my dating apps, checking if anyone else is swiping on a Sunday.
No. Pass. Definitely notyou.
“Oh, hi, Evan,” I murmur to myself, pausing on a picture of the blonde and blue-eyed all-American guy. One swipe and… it’s a match.
∞∞∞
“Thanks so much for a great night,”I tell a beaming Evan, who turned out to be one of the best dates I’ve had this year. Something must be very wrong with him if I like him—I always seem to be a magnet for narcissists.
“No, thankyou, Ellie,” he replies, making my smile twitch.And there it is.
“Emily,” I correct him with a falsely bright voice.
He blinks those baby blues a couple of times. “Sorry?”
“My name? It’s Emily.”
His grin doesn’t falter for a moment.
“That’s what I said,” he snickers.
Right, because I mishear my own name often.
“Never mind,” I say with a wave of my hand. There’s no salvaging this now. I should’ve known better than to let him drive me home, but when he heard I live in themurder building, he insisted. Maybe that was the first red flag I missed.
I turn and reach for the door handle, intending to say good night and get the hell out of this car, when his hand lands on my thigh.
“Aren’t you going to invite me up?” Evan simpers. He probably meant to sound seductive, but the rose-colored glasses have been removed, and I see right through him now. And there isn’t much to see.
I force myself not to frown at his pushy behavior, my smile feeling like it has the structural integrity of a semifreddo. I hate that women always have to de-escalate dangerous situations with false calm.
“It’s been a weird day, and I didn’t sleep well.” That’s about as much as I manage to say before Evan pushes his hand up between my legs, pawing for my panties underneath my skirt.
“Hey!” I scream, my hands coming up to push him away.
“Bet I can change your mind,” he says, his lips slobbering over my neck.
“No!” I say clearly, scrambling for the door handle. Just as I manage to open it a sliver, a bone-deep thud reverberates through the car, followed by the sharp crack of safety glass splintering.
“What the fuck?” Evan yells, blessedly retreating to his side of the car.
